Something You Don't Know
by AngelxPhoenix
Summary: A few mishaps on a hunt leads to a few confessions


**Not only was this written for a Tumblr challenge, it's my first Sam fic. How did I do?**

They forced you into the basement at gunpoint, though you and Sam had been well on your way to kicking their asses before they drew weapons. You had been on your way out of the building to tell Dean, it wasn't a ghost you were dealing with, but ordinary people selling cursed objects at an antique store. As luck would have it, though, they caught you, and now you were trapped.

The door slammed shut behind both of you and you heard the lock turn and a bolt slide home, but that didn't stop you from seizing the knob and yanking on it furiously, or pounding on the door. "Hey!" you yelled through the wood. "Listen up, you sons of bitches, when I get out of here I'm gonna find the biggest hooky piece of crap in your collection and shove it up your–"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Sam interrupted, tugging on your elbow. "We gotta find a way out of here and get back to Dean before they plant something else on some other unlucky customer."

You huffed and glared, still seething as you turned to him, your eyes falling on his hand pulling you away from the door. You furrowed your brows and asked, "Why are you bleeding?"

He lifted his hand away, examining the red smears over his palm and fingers. "I'm not," he replied, puzzled. "That's…" He looked down at your arm and you followed.

There was a large gash below your shoulder. You hadn't noticed getting it in the fight with the asshats that locked you down here, but now it was getting hard to ignore the blood gushing from it. "Oh," you said. "Mine." The adrenaline shielding you from the shock wore off the moment you made the connection, and your head started spinning as pain lanced through you.

Sam caught you as your knees buckled and you stumbled against him. "Easy, I've got you," he assured you, "you're okay…"

"How bad is it?" you asked. "It's bad, isn't it? I can't feel my arm, I'm gonna bleed out–"

"No, you're not," he replied. "Here, sit…" He guided you to sit on the stairs and helped get your injured arm out of your jacket, pushing up your sleeve to get a better look at the gash. It hurt like all hell and you could feel the blood running down your arm, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at it. "I'm gonna die," you said, feeling faint and ready to puke. "That's it, I'm gonna die."

"You're not," Sam repeated firmly. "Just calm down and hold still." He drew a knife and cut away the ruined sleeve, then tied the fabric around your arm as a makeshift tourniquet. "There, see?" he said. "Not dying."

"But we're still locked down here in a building full of cursed objects," you argued. "We can't touch _anything_ we could use to get out of here! Break down the door with that axe? Nope, you'll end up slamming it into your face. Pry open a window with the crowbar over there? Can't do that either, it'll suck out all of your life force after it melts your skin off!"

"Calm. Down," Sam repeated firmly. "We'll figure a way out of here, as long as we stay cool and don't get ridiculous."

"Ridiculous is how I cope, Sam!" The unease that had begun to creep in as soon as you heard the lock click on the basement door was quickly escalating into anxiety, and you knew from experience if you didn't shut it down fast, you would have a full-blown panic attack before long.

He knew you too well, though, to miss how agitated you were. "You know it's gonna be okay, right?" he asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. "We're gonna get out of here, finish this case, and move on, I promise."

"It's not that," you insisted.

"Your arm isn't that bad," he said, "really, I'm not just blowing smoke–"

"It's not that, either." You leaned back against the door, a solid panel of wood and a steel bolt the only thing between you and freedom, and your heart rate kicked up just at the thought. "I don't like–I don't like being locked in. Trapped. No way out."

You could feel Sam watching you even in the darkness of the basement, and you could imagine the look of confusion and pity on his face. You couldn't blame him, though that didn't make you feel any better. Of all the things you had seen as a hunter, the thing that scared you was a locked door. "I, uh, I didn't know that…" he said quietly.

You scoffed. "There's a lot you don't know, Sam Winchester."

"Then why don't you tell me?" he asked. "Just…tell me something I don't know about you, then I'll tell you something, we'll trade off…"

You shrugged, then winced when your arm flared. It was something to keep you distracted, which was exactly why he suggested it, which was such a Sam thing to do that your heart clenched in a different manner. "All right," you said. "I don't like feeling trapped. Your turn."

He settled a little more comfortably next to you on the stair and leaned his head back against the door. "I was in drama in school."

"Really? _You?"_

He shrugged and the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. "Your turn."

"As long as we're talking school, I got in a fight on the bus on the second day of kindergarten."

"What?" His shock sounded genuine and you couldn't help but giggle. He thought about it a little more, then nodded. "You know, not that surprising. Your impulse control has a lot of room for improvement."

Would he say that if he knew how well you were resisting the impulse to reach out with your good arm and take his hand in yours? To lose yourself in those warm hazel eyes only a moment before you pressed your lips to his? What about how long you had resisted the impulse? If he knew how much you loved him, or for how long…

No point thinking about that. It's not like you were planning on telling him _that_ , or anything.

"My turn," he said. "I, uh…" He drew a breath and let it out, buying time while he thought of something else. He chuckled, then said, "I stole Dean's porn mags and swapped them out for _Good Housekeeping_."

"You ass!" you burst out. "He still thinks _I_ did that!"

He laughed even harder, his entire face lighting up the way that made you feel like you were shining brighter too. Your fingers twitched, itching to lace through his and hold on tight. Was it a little ridiculous, locked in some psycho's basement, injured and bloody, falling deeper in love with the big hunter with the even bigger heart? Yeah, maybe. Did you care?

Hell.

No.

You tried to hold onto your grumpy attitude, to hide what you were feeling and because it seemed to amuse him, and he gave you a long, soft look once he stopped laughing. "You know," he said, with a thoughtful, slightly teasing tone, "you're cute when you're angry."

"And you're a jerk."

"And you love me anyway."

You paused, your breath coming short and unsure how to take that. Was he still teasing or…or did he know more than you thought he did?

He watched you for a moment, giving you time to speak, before prompting gently, "It's okay. You can say it. It _is_ your turn, after all."

"Sam, I don't…I don't know what you're–" You hesitated, then gave up with a sigh. "How long have you known?"

"Awhile," he admitted, then added, "Zero impulse control."

Your mouth twitched but you didn't quite smile. "Well, there goes me thinking I was being slick…"

He smiled and shook his head. "You'd never make it as a poker player, for sure," he teased. He settled a little more comfortably next to you, his warmth and his nearness reassuring beyond what you could say, and said, "I might as well tell you, I care about you. A lot. And I know better than to think I'll ever get out of hunting, but whenever I think about a life without it, it's always a life with you."

You felt your breath catch and an unexpected lump came to your throat, reaction to sudden emotion. "Aw, Sammy," you said, "you shouldn't tease a girl like that unless you mean it."

"I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, whatever's left of it."

Slowly, you reached out, searching for him, and you saw him reach out too, searching just the same. Your small hand disappeared into his larger one, fingers lacing together, knuckles fitting side by side. Slightly mismatched, but still a perfect fit. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. "I love you, Sam Winchester."

He kissed the top of your head and you looked up at him, warm hazel eyes pulling you in and soft lips inviting you closer. "Tell me something I don't know."

 **Leave me some love!**


End file.
